A/N: This was one of my quickest updates ever, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging at the end of that ultradark chapter. Though this one is admittedly quite dark in its own way. But yay, we get Scorpia and she can make anything better, right?

CONTENT WARNING for detailed flashbacks of emotional and implied physical abuse. There's less direct references to violence than in chapter 1, but the psychological bullshit Shadow Weaver pulls in this chapter is unpleasant to say the least.

Feet dragging, ears flattened, Catra trudges through the empty hallways of the Fright Zone. The soul-crushing numbness that weighs her down conflicts with the cramps in her arm and her gut. She exacted her revenge. She inflicted the same pain on Shadow Weaver that she had on her all these years. In a physical sense, anyway. She couldn't replicate the binding magic and the put downs that made her feel so powerless, but she returned at least part of the favor.

So why doesn't she feel better?

This reminds her of how she felt after cutting Adora's lifeline in the temple and letting her fall. She was walking on air as she exited the ruins, basking in exhilaration and pride. For standing up for herself, for freeing herself from Adora and stepping out of her shadow. But she did have other motives, admittedly. She didn't just want to cut Adora out of her life, she wanted to hurt Adora like Adora had hurt her. Turning her back on her and leaving her in danger. Leaving her to die. It was satisfying in the moment, but the high had long worn off by the time she made it back to the Fright Zone. Then when Scorpia said that thing about her being the best friend ever, well, it was a dagger straight to the heart.

It shouldn't have been, though. Adora is the one who ended their friendship. Not only did she abandon Catra to the mercy of Shadow Weaver, after Thaymor she never treated her like a friend again until after Catra helped her escape. Adora's the one who gave up on them, not Catra. And she had the gall to act like things could go back to normal. Stupid fucking Adora with her stupid fucking face. She couldn't even begin to understand why Catra was so angry. Catra shouldn't have expected any better, though. This was the same Adora who loved attention and praise so much she didn't even notice the horrific things Shadow Weaver was doing to her best friend.

Arriving at the large gym near the simulation area, Catra peeks inside. Thankfully it's empty. Even the Adoras of the Horde don't train this early. Catra growls as she stalks over to the boxing area, fists and shoulders clenching. Rage is eating at her insides, demanding a way out. Zeroing in on one of the heavy bags, she attacks it with everything in her, hissing and punching and swiping.

When her muscles are burning and her lungs screaming for air, Catra steps back and wipes her sweaty brow, chest heaving with effort. Her eyes lock onto the collection of gashes in the bag and she freezes. Her heart stutters, sweat breaking out on her palms. Knowing Shadow Weaver is locked up and can't punish her anymore does little to quell the anxiety roiling in her gut. It's been burned into her permanently. If Shadow Weaver found claw marks in anything it would usually land Catra a thorough belting interspersed with a lecture about her destructive nature. That was part of why she was so jumpy when Shadow Weaver accosted her in the barracks after her failed mission to rescue Adora. Adora's bunk was in shreds behind her, and that scratched drawing was just out of Shadow Weaver's view...

A new wave of anger wells up in her chest and she lets loose another flurry of punches, half grunting and half yelling with every strike. She runs out of energy quickly and has to brace her hands on her knees, leaning forward as she tries to catch her breath. Nausea and dizziness swirl in her head, her limbs shaking with exhaustion and unspent emotion. Her mind and body yearn to fall apart, and it's tempting to give in.

Forcing herself to stand, Catra braces her forearm on the bag and rests her clammy forehead against it. Her breaths come in heaving, stuttering gasps. Tracks of sweat run down her face and drip from her chin, spattering on the floor beneath her. Feeling herself swaying on her feet a little, she moves her arm to wrap around the bag and lets her cheek fall against the rough canvas, eyes slipping shut. For a moment, just one harmless moment, she allows herself to pretend it's the smooth and sweet-smelling skin of the only person she'd ever allow to hold her up like this. Pretend she's wrapped in a pair of impossibly strong arms. Pretend she'll ever get to nuzzle into the crook of her neck again.

"Hi, Catra!"

Catra just about jumps out of her skin. She turns to glare at Scorpia, who's grinning obliviously as she approaches. "I didn't take you for an early riser. Oo, we should be workout buddies! How often do you-" Scorpia stops in her tracks, staring at Catra's face. "Are you crying?"

Her eyes narrow irritably. "No? I'm just sweating." What a dumb question. She moves to disprove the assertion, touching under her eyes. They go wide as she feels the hot and sticky skin at the top of her cheeks. Oh. Giving Scorpia a casual shrug, she bluffs, "I guess my eyes are watering from the exertion? That's weird."

The concern doesn't leave Scorpia's face, but she lets it go. "Well, here, then you'd better take extra care to stay hydrated," she says, passing Catra one of the three canteens cradled in the crook of her huge arm.

Catra accepts the water with a weak smile. "Thanks, Scorpia."

"No thanks needed, you're my best buddy!" Scorpia leans in with a conspiratory grin. "Don't tell Entrapta."

Chuckling inwardly, Catra assures her, "Your secret's safe with me." Unscrewing the lid, she puts the canteen to her lips and begins to chug.

As she wipes her mouth, Scorpia perks up, "So… should I get you a picture for the punching bag?"

"Huh?"

Gesturing at the shredded bag, Scorpia specifies, "You know, like the one you said Adora put on the bag in your locker room? The one of the queen?"

Catra shifts her weight uneasily but forces herself to keep a blank face. She was foolish to leave evidence of her rampage in such plain sight. Too much emotion is considered weakness in the Horde, even if that emotion is anger. "Oh. That."

"Then you can beat up whoever it is that's making you so-" Catra's heated glare cuts her off, and her face flickers. "It's not me, is it?"

Eyes falling, Catra mutters, "No."

"Adora?"

"NO." Scorpia raises an eyebrow and Catra's mouth twists in a scowl. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Right, you're into less talking, more punching," Scorpia teases her with a half-hearted smile.

Catra gives a decisive nod. "That about sums it up."

Scorpia puts up her dukes, sporting a genuine grin this time. "Good thing I'm as good at boxing as I am at listening." Catra might protest if she didn't know Scorpia wouldn't take no for an answer. Stubbornly kind assholes seem to be a constant in her life. Catra might protest if Scorpia wasn't already gripping her shirt in her pincers and tugging her toward the ring. "Come on!"

Catra might protest if some part of her didn't actually want the company. And to hit things, of course.

It occurs to Catra as she retracts her claws and pulls on the gloves that Scorpia might have suggested this to keep her from destroying any more equipment. The woman may have some brains after all. Scorpia can't wear gloves, of course, but she grabs a pair of punching mitts in her claws and holds them up as targets. As always, she's full of encouragements.

"Jab, jab, cross! You got this!"

"Keep your guard up, Catra! You're usually so good at that!" (Catra scowls at that one, but Scorpia's grinning ear-to-ear and she can't bring herself to yell at her.)

"Come on, hit me harder! Is that all you've got?"

In time, Catra actually finds herself smiling. Maybe Adora was right about working out making people feel happier. Catra always thought that was a lie to convince her to join her at the gym. But, no. This is actually fun. Everything is going great until Catra accidentally drops her guard hand again and Scorpia promptly smacks one of the mitts into the side of her face. The blow is hard and comes out of nowhere, knocking her on her ass. Aghast, Catra checks her mouth for blood and stares wide-eyed at the woman towering over her. "What the fuck was that for?"

"You left yourself open," she answers matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to hit me!" protests Catra.

"Sorry, but it was for your own good," shrugs Scorpia. "I already tried telling you. Sometimes getting hit is how you have to learn."

The floor of the ring might as well have dropped out from under Catra. The blood drains from her head and for a second she could swear she's about to pass out. She squeezes her eyes shut in determination, fighting to stay conscious and avoid the nightmares lurking on the other side. The words ring in her ears anyway.

"You brought this upon yourself, you know. You wouldn't listen, you just had to keep misbehaving, didn't you?" Catra could feel Shadow Weaver bending down over her kneeling, quivering form. "Now this is how you have to learn your lesson," she continued with an eerie sweetness, running a hand over Catra's head in what could have been a comforting pet otherwise. "This is for your own good, Catra."

Growling into her gritted teeth, Catra clenches her fists and drives them into the floor. "Don't fucking touch me," she seethes, pushing herself to her feet. "That's an order, Force Captain."

Before Scorpia has a chance to respond, Catra's throwing herself at her with a new fury. Her punches come fast and vicious, hard enough to make Scorpia step back to regain her balance. Catra can feel herself getting sloppy again, but Scorpia wisely refrains from taking any more potshots. Catra could very well kill someone in her current state. She's so tired of trying to hold everything back. By the time her eyes start to prickle and burn, she's screaming with the punches.

"Catra?" She can't see Scorpia's face through the tears flooding her eyes, but Catra can hear how worried she is. It only pisses her off more. Throwing one last combo with a blistering battlecry, she turns and storms out of the ring. Ripping off her gloves, she pitches them to the side and kicks a stool across the room on her way to the bench where she left her water.

Picking up the canteen with a shaky hand, Catra ignores the feeling of eyes on her back. Her uncooperative fingers struggle with the lid, amplifying her frustration, but she finally gets it open as Scorpia steps up beside her. Avoiding her gaze, Catra calmly sits and drinks like nothing happened, like she didn't just have a minor meltdown in front of one of her immediate subordinates. Scorpia watches her a moment before joining her in sitting. Another beat passes before she ventures, "I really am sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. That's how I usually teach cadets who want to learn how to box, it wasn't personal."

"It's fine," mutters Catra, keeping her tear-streaked face angled away from Scorpia's inquisitive eyes.

She's just screwing the lid back on her water when Scorpia tells her, "Hey look, I don't mind if you cry, you know. It's not a big deal."

Catra chuckles darkly, wiping the residual tears from her eyes. "Yeah, you didn't grow up with Shadow Weaver breathing down your neck."

Scorpia's horrified expression makes Catra laugh again. Princesses are so fucking sheltered. "She punished you guys for crying?"

"At least when it was me." Catra's rueful smile fades as she considers this further. "The other cadets would cry too sometimes, I don't remember her ever coming down on them so hard." Nibbling the inside of her lip, she stares down at her fidgeting hands. "But they aren't like me."

"Duh, no one's as cool as you."

"No, I mean…" Catra shifts on the bench. "She said my kind are all ruled by their emotions, and I guess she wanted to train that out of me."

"Your kind…" Scorpia's eyes narrow before popping open suddenly. "Oh, you mean the Magicats?"

Catra's eyebrows twitch half-heartedly. "Is that what I am?"

"You might be part human too," muses Scorpia. "I've never actually seen one before you. But I heard about them. My kingdom was at war with them for years before Hordak wiped them out."

Her ears perk up, eyes going wide. "What?"

"It was part of the deal my grandfather made when he gave Hordak the Black Garnet. Help us defend our kingdom from that clan that kept trying to steal our territory. I don't think he expected Hordak to attack their settlement, but it did solve the problem." Quickly catching Catra's eye, she tacks on, "No offense."

"None taken," Catra mutters absently. Her brow creases in thought. "Shadow Weaver always told me my parents abandoned me. Maybe they were just dead."

"Would that be better or worse?"

Better. Definitely better. "I don't know."

Examining her pincers, Scorpia ruminates, "Well, Hordak destroyed their kingdom, but there's nothing to say some of them didn't get out. They could still be alive. Could have lost you in the chaos."

Catra stares at her in what can only be described as amazement. "How did you ever end up in the Horde?"

"I told you, my gr-"

"No, I mean you don't belong here." Scorpia's face falls and an alarm bell goes off in Catra's head. "Oh shit, no. Scorpia, I didn't mean it like that," she says quickly. Noticing her hand has landed on one of Scorpia's pincers, she decides to leave it there. "I just meant you're such a kind person, and the Horde isn't exactly spreading kindness around Etheria."

Scorpia sighs. "Yeah, maybe it's not the best fit. But at least here I can be who I am. I'm not an outcast, or a freak."

Retreating back into her own space, Catra mutters, "Lucky you."

"Shadow Weaver's stupid, and a jerk," says Scorpia. "Don't worry about what she said. She's not in charge anymore, what she thinks doesn't matter."

Lips pursing, Catra rests her elbows on her knees and glares across the room. Several moments pass before she feels a light pressure on her head and shrinks into herself. Scorpia is undeterred, bless her soul. The light scratching sensation that made Catra tense up begins to have the opposite effect after a few seconds. It feels different with claws instead of fingernails, but it's still… kind of nice? Before Catra realizes it, she's gently pushing up against Scorpia's pincer, silently asking for more. Scorpia indulges her with a chuckle, which really should make her indignant, but she's too tired for that. With a resigned sigh, Catra decides to allow herself this moment of weakness. She's barely had any comforting touch since Adora left, and it's probably contributing to her current mental state. Maybe… maybe letting Scorpia in wouldn't kill her? But that's probably the petting talking. She'll no doubt feel very different the next time Scorpia opens her big mouth.

Content to wait and find out, Catra doesn't react again until the tip of Scorpia's claw grazes her ear. A jolt of terror shoots through her body and she ducks away, eyes wide and trained on Scorpia. "Sorry, sorry." Scorpia's claws go up in a gesture of innocence. "Ten foot radius, I know."

Catra's muscles unlock after a few seconds, allowing her to exhale and roll her eyes in both relief and aggravation. Rolling off the bench with a shudder, she begins pacing back and forth, rubbing her arms to combat the crawling feeling in her skin. Adora was the only person she could ever stand touching her ears, and even with her it set her a little on edge, as good as it felt. One more thing Shadow Weaver ruined for her.

Shadow Weaver enjoyed using Catra's anatomical abnormalities against her, making her feel even more out of place. Her tail, when she was feeling particularly cruel. Mostly her ears. They were so vulnerable and easy to grab. The first time she did it was also one of the first times she dragged Catra to the prison, but not the first. Definitely not the first, because Catra knew what was in store for her. Though it was well over a decade ago, she can distinctly remember digging her heels into the metal flooring in a panic, her voice coming out in a pathetic squeak.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!"

"Yes, you will be sorry."

The promise of pain sent tears streaming down Catra's cheeks. "Please, I'll be good, I promise."

"Do you want to be punished for lying, too? You've never been anything but trouble. There isn't a shred of goodness in you." Shadow Weaver's spindly fingers tightened around Catra's ear, making her whimper as her tiny legs struggled to keep pace. "You're a bad girl, Catra. And bad girls get punished."

"Catra!" A pair of pincers on her shoulders stops Catra in her tracks, making her eyes fly open. "Catra, what's wrong?" Scorpia looks more than worried, now. She almost looks scared. Catra shakes her head sharply, avoiding Scorpia's kind eyes. Even if she wanted to tell her, she can't seem to form words at the moment. She turns away, back hunched and shoulders up at her ears, clenching and unfurling her fists on repeat. Because Scorpia has a fucking death wish, she doesn't shut up. "Look, I'm your friend. You can talk to me."

"I don't need friends," snaps Catra, wheeling around to face her. "I don't need anyone else letting me down."

Sympathy fills Scorpia's eyes. Catra can't stand it. "So it is Adora."

Catra sighs, rubbing her throbbing forehead with the heel of her hand. Scorpia already seems convinced of this, and it would be easier to admit to this one small thing than explain the entirety of what's going on in her head. Less painful, too. Gritting her teeth, Catra glares down at the floor. "I guess that's part of it."

"Forget about her. She was a terrible friend. She left you." Scorpia starts to raise a comforting claw but drops her arm as Catra shrinks away. Pushing her disappointment aside, she gives Catra a soft and reassuring smile. "You know I'd never do that, right?"

Scorpia's promise causes a sinking feeling in Catra's chest, her brain buzzing with a horrifying realization. She's doing the same thing to Scorpia and Entrapta as Adora did to her. Making them feel like she cares about them, like they can trust her. She's going to let them down too. She's going to hurt them. And before now she never even gave it a second thought.

Shadow Weaver was right. Adora was wrong. She is a bad person.

A/N: God damn it, Catra, let yourself be loved 2k19.

Next chapter we finally get some Adora POV! That update will definitely take longer, but I'll be sure to make it worth the wait. :)